


Suppositions

by freedomworm



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ace Daryl, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomworm/pseuds/freedomworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Daryl is that he lets everyone make their assumptions and never says a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suppositions

**Author's Note:**

> My first TWD fic! I started watching the show last Saturday and am almost caught up...I started writing this when I finished episode 4x10 and this fic operates under the assumption that Maggie and Glenn haven't married.

Thing about Daryl is, he lets everyone make their assumptions and never says a word. Part of that's because he's not altogether chatty but it's mostly because, as he would say, he don't give a shit –ain't nobody's business what goes on inside his head but his own.

One of the great mysteries about Daryl, according to everyone else, is his history. He doesn't like to get into it, thinks it's better that way. The past is in the past, ain't no use _dwellin'_ on it. 

Still, there's that kid, Zach, who's more persistent about it than others, and he guesses on the daily about Daryl's past, too young or too  _somethin_ ' to ever suspect that maybe Daryl didn't do much of anything before the world went to shit, that maybe he drifted place to place, menial job to menial job, with no purpose to speak for. 

"Kid's last guess was a homicide detective," Daryl finds himself saying to no one, really, though Tyreese is helping him reinforce the prison fence, so he guesses that's who he's talking to.

Ty pauses, then snorts, and raises a new log. They push it against the fence even as the walkers push back.

"He was a good kid."

"Ain't they always?" Daryl mutters, thinking about Sophia. It still hurts, not finding her.

"I was a manager," Ty says after a while. "At a Best Buy, you know? Wasn't the most glamorous job, but I was workin' my way up. Had a plan. So much for that, huh?"

Daryl hums in agreement and knows this is the part of what is passing as a conversation where he should share his story, spill the beans on what he did Before. "Looks like it's gonna hold," he says about the fence instead. He picks up his crossbow and heads back up to the prison that they've learned to call home.

 

* * *

 

"Look," Rick approaches him again, later, "I know you and Carol were close, and I..."

Daryl levels him with a glare, the sort he hasn't used in a while, and has faith that his expression is as close to one of _Shut up, Grimes_ as it's gonna get.

Rick grimaces and gets that vaguely guilty look on his face -the one he gets when he's overstepped but he's not quite willing to give up his ground because he's an ex-cop for fuck's sake. He stares back at Daryl, refusing to back down.

"No matter now," Daryl grunts and brushes past Rick. He makes his way to the sick rooms and checks in on everyone and then Glenn, because he doesn't know what the fuck else to do.

Maggie's already there, holding Glenn's hand as he attempts to cough up a lung and all of his blood.

Glenn glances up, face ashen and covered in a sheen of sweat, as he feels a new presence in the room. He makes a face, but not at Daryl. Kid probably feels like shit on the underside of God's shoe or somethin' like it right now.

Maggie looks up, too. "Thanks," she says.

Daryl tips his head at her. Then he asks, "Take yer meds?"

"Couple of minutes ago—" Glenn starts, but then he breaks off in a fit, hacking up a storm.

"Glenn," Maggie murmurs, rubbing circles into his back, "You don't need t'say anything."

He nods, ducking his head to cough into the crook of his arm -like that's gonna make a difference.

It's tough to watch, so Daryl pushes off the doorframe he's been leaning against and silently turns to leave. He's probably got something to do outside, or... somethin'.

"Daryl," Maggie calls after him, voice soft and kind, "Thanks again –for bringin' back the medicine for everyone"

Daryl just nods and shrugs and doesn't say how when he was fighting off the walkers that'd swarmed the car on during the supply run, it had been the frantic need to get the meds that had spurred him on. He doesn't mention that he'd only had one person's life on his mind, and it wasn't his. 

He just keeps walking. 

 

* * *

 

 

After the shitstorm that is the Governor's return, the subsequent chaos, and finally, the reunion with the Grimeses, Michonne, Tyreese, Carol and the girls, Sasha, Bob and Maggie, Daryl sits by Carol at their campfire.

Mika is already asleep, but the girl Lizzie is sitting on Carol's other side, stabbing the log she's sitting on with her knife.

When Carol leaves to take a can of the heated up soup to Mika in their tent, Daryl abruptly finds himself on the receiving end of a murderous glare from a thirteen year-old.

Christ almighty.

He puts his spoon down as he finishes the last of his soup. Normally, he'd probably spit out something like "got somethin' t'say, y'say it, kid", but he's not feeling particularly wordy today. Maggie is beside herself and won't come off watch duty and even though the group is relieved to be together, there's a tension between Carol and Rick and a Glenn-shaped hole in the fabric that holds the group together. It makes Daryl's hands itch to shoot something, but he suppresses the urge.

Daryl takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights the last smoke he has instead. He's not an avid smoker, but the burn through his lungs at each draw takes the edge off, and when he exhales, the sight of smoke billowing out before him before dissappating... it's oddly soothing.

He thinks back to the early days of the ZA and despite its chaos, he remembers those days as Better. The Atlanta camp had been safe for weeks, had been the first safe place he and Merle'd been able to stay for so long.

Merle.

Daryl doesn't like to think about it. Merle'd been an asshole, straight up, but Michonne had approached him one night, a couple days after the first fiasco with the Governor, and had told him all that Merle had said in his last hour.

Knowing what Merle did makes Daryl feel something hot in his chest and he can never tell if he wants to scream or cry because he remembers that day Merle saw his scars, and he remembers the look on Merle's face. And after that, it was like he tried to do better by Daryl or _something_ and at the time, Daryl wanted to shout  _too fuckin' late_!

But his brother was all he had for so fucking long, and his death hurt like nothing else, even before Michonne told Daryl what happened. And Merle never did anything like that in his damn life, which only makes Daryl think that he musta lost it in the end or maybe he really did have some huge fuckin' epiphany around that time.

Wasn't like Merle wouldn't take a beating for Daryl -he used to -a lot -back when they were younger. But... he'd never extended the hand to protect anyone else _,_ not even Ma.

So Daryl tries not to think about Merle too hard, because he was a grade-A asshole junkie, a mean sonuvabitch, but was Daryl's blood and that _meant_ something and... he was all Daryl had before the world ended. Old habits died hard.

"If you hurt Carol, I'll kill you."

This brings Daryl out of his thoughts. He puffs out some smoke and flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, blinking at Lizzie. "You think I'm fixin' t'hurt Carol?" he says calmly, because he's talking to a little girl and there's no use arguing with a child.

"Mika and me love Carol like she's our own mother. We'll cut off your balls in your sleep if you break her heart."

Christ. Where'd she learn to say _that_? Daryl coulda sworn she was a little square, but he takes a better look at her just then and sees the cold look in Lizzie's eyes. Jesus. "Ain't no one breakin' nobody's heart," he says gruffly, and picks up a stick to poke at the campfire a little.

"Good," Lizzie says, "Because Carol loves you and she deserves to be with someone who loves her."

"Don' I know it," Daryl agrees darkly, remembering the meek woman she had been around her fat dick of a husband. Daryl doesn't bother trying to remember his name, though. Better that the man's dead. Finishing his cigarette, Daryl tosses it to the ground and digs it into the dirt with his heel.

It's only when he's already retreated to his own tent that he realizes what Lizzie's gotten into her head. She thinks—

He sighs. Don't matter.

Carol will straighten her girls out with the truth if they bring it up again.

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning, Maggie announces her plan to go out and search for Glenn.

Everyone looks at each other with shifty, guilty expressions. They're all still so wary and they don't know if they want to _go_ , even if they do want Glenn to be with them again.

Daryl sighs and goes into his tent as Maggie is still trying to cajole the group into helping her find Glenn. He grabs his jacket and already-packed bag of necessities and slings his crossbow over his shoulders as he returns to where the group is gathered.

Maggie is attempting to persuade Ty, who looks like he _really_ wants to tag along, but who keeps glancing back at Sasha, who doesn't look convinced at all.

Daryl snorts and brushes past Maggie, lightly bumping her shoulder with his. "We move out now, we can get 'bout five miles out an' back 'fore dark," he says, heading toward the forest.

"I'm not comin' back until I find him." she says stubbornly.

Daryl turns and locks eyes with Rick. "Did some scoutin' yesterday; there's an abandoned ranch up three miles north'a here. We head that way, and circle back t'meet in three days." He glances to Maggie, "You comin' or what?"

They head into the forest, the rest of the group watching them go reluctantly and damn if Daryl isn't gonna find Glenn if it got him another arrow through the side. He isn't gonna let what happened to Sophia happen again.

"Thank you," Maggie says in a shaky voice as they head down the way. "For doing this for me,"

Daryl bites back the _Not doin' this for you_  that bubbles up in his throat. He thinks about Glenn -Glenn, who was the first person in the Atlanta camp to try and talk to him, who was brave and sure and kind. Daryl just nods. "S'not gonna be easy. S'no trail to track. We're searchin' for a needle in a damn haystack." he reminds her, though maybe he's also reminding himself a little. No use getting his hopes up too high.

 

* * *

 

 

If Daryl were to pinpoint the exact moment he started giving a shit about anyone in the Atlanta camp, he'd say it was the moment the Vatos guys had taken Glenn. The broken scream of _DARYL_ had echoed in his head for an hour, and when he saw Glenn up on that roof with the bag over his head, he thinks that he might've lost it right then and there and shot everyone up if it weren't for the fact that Glenn was up on that roof ledge in the first place.

The Dixons hadn't been raised to be soft, though, and Daryl isn't some girl whose legs are gonna turn to jelly whenever their _crush_ is around.

He knows some people at camp who don't know him as well still hold some stereotypes to him, but Daryl isn't a homophobe. Isn't _his_ business who people want to sleep with, so what does it matter? And Daryl knows what _he_ likes, so what does that matter, either?

Now, sitting in the dark beside a bleeding Glenn, holed up in the refrigeration unit of a diner with the only thing between them and a horde of walkers being the metal door, Daryl wonders if he should've said something long ago.

Glenn's breathing is shallow and his eyes are closed.

Daryl did his best to treat the gashes in his side, and all they can do now is wait and risk being overrun and eaten.

"Shit," Daryl mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. " _Shit._ " He's surprised to find that his cheeks are wet.

There are few times that Daryl has ever given up hope like he has now. Before, it was always a matter of waiting for rescue. Except there's God-knows-how-many walkers banging on the door, Korea's out cold and injured besides, and Maggie –the only possible saving grace, is God-knows-where.

There was a time Daryl was ready to die, had made peace with the fact he'd most likely meet a bloody end at the teeth of a walker horde. It's almost funny how much he's unwilling to go  ow that death feels more imminent than ever before.

Splitting up is a bad idea. If Daryl lives out the day, he's going to make sure someone knows to talk him out of it in the future.

Glenn comes to about an hour later and makes a gagging sound as the stench of rotting fruit and vegetables and meat that is around them hits his nose. "Daryl…?" he whispers into the dark.

"Yeah."

He hears a groan. "What happened?"

Daryl knows his voice is harsh with bitterness. "Found you little ways down the street in that art supply place where you were holed up," he says, "Got out on the street, got swarmed by a herd."

"There was that piece of glass sticking off the shelf in the first place we ran through…" Glenn recalls. "I cut myself-" There's sound of movement and then a pained hiss cuts him off.

"Dragged your sorry ass in here," Daryl says by way of confirmation.

"And now we're trapped," Glenn's voice has reverted to a whisper, like speaking up hurts, too. "Jesus, Daryl, I'm sorry. Shit. Guess your email pretty pissed, huh? One dumb move and now..."

"Got nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl says sharply, but doesn't correct the part about being angry. If Glenn thinks he's angry, let him –it might keep him scared enough to stay the hell alive. Then again, Glenn's never been one to cower at Daryl's glares or words, even in the early days, when the camp was wary of the Dixons. Still, Daryl'd rather have the kid thinking he's angry that they're barricaded in a rank out-of-power cooling unit than have him know that Daryl is practically nauseous with worry.

There's no reply and then a shuddering intake of breath and a low, pained moan.

Daryl checks Glenn's pulse and it's weak, and he figures Glenn musta blacked out again. He's lost too much blood, needs to be stitched up. If they don't get out of there soon, Glenn is gonna die.

When Daryl feels something against his hand, he stiffens, mind screaming  _WALKER_ , but then reason takes over and he recalls that walkers don't have warm flesh and they'd be more likely to aggressively _eat_  his hand than weakly take it in their own.

And Daryl doesn't know what to do with that because Glenn is holding his hand and unless he missed a goddamn memo, they didn't _do_ that sort of thing... and yet. And yet, just holding Glenn's hand makes Daryl's heart beat something fierce, makes him feel his stomach clench and his thoughts stutter. It's... 

"…Glenn?" he says, and hates how fucking scared and broken his voice sounds.

There's a low chuckle. "So you do …remember my name," Glenn teases weakly. Then he says, so uncertain it almost makes Daryl fucking _heart_ break: "Please don't leave me here."

Daryl can't find his voice to respond.

"And if I turn, you have to put me down," Glenn says, voice soft but determinedly steady, like he has to put up a calm front bexcuse that's all he has and he'll start falling apart otherwise.

Daryl knows the feeling. "Fuck you, Korea," he bites out, pulling his hand away. He immediately regrets it. "Y'ain't dyin' on _me_ , boy. Maggie's comin' an' we'll take out them walkers together an' get you back t'camp. I came all this way t'save your ass so don't you talk t'me about _dyin'_."

Glenn is quiet. "I'm sorry," he says and then there's nothing and for the worst moment, Daryl listens and doesn't hear Glenn's haggard breathing and his heart jumps into his throat because _no way in hell_ could Glenn have died right then and there. Dramatic shit like that wasn't supposed to happen in real life ( _yeah_ , _an' people ain't supposed t'come back from the dead with'a case o' the munchies, neither,_  whispers a voice in Daryl's mind, sounding dreadfully like Merle).

"Glenn?" Daryl says, leaning over his chest to listen.

He stays there a while, listening hard, and even though Glenn's body is still warm, he feels no pulse and hears no beat.

It's after a couple of seconds of this when realization strikes Daryl like lightning and shocks just as much. He reels back, mouth opening to scream before he even registers what he's doing.

It's worse than Merle, worse than anything. It's ...it's like all the things he's never said -every emotion he's ever repressed -likes it's been lit, and he's burning from the inside out, consumed by rage, drowning in grief, and _fuck_. He didn't think it wouldn't hurt so much.  

 

* * *

 

He wakes up with a start, no idea of when the world faded to black to begin with.

Daryl is lying in a tent and he has to stare up at the filthy fabric above him for a couple of moments before his heartbeat returns to normal and he realizes that he's back at camp.

His memories start to come back, hazy and distorted, and he remembers the noise from the walkers outside growing. There was gunfire after that, but by the , Daryl was quickly losing his fight to stay awake. He was so dehydrated, and the last thing he saw was Rick kneeling down next to him and Glenn— Glenn hadn't come _back_ yet, which was stupid, because it wasn't as if he would be _alive_ —

Daryl sits up slowly and scrubs a hand over his face.

_Pull yourself together, Dixon._

He climbs to his feet and ducks out of the tent only to find the entire camp outside staring at him, all frozen in place.

He looks down and notes  that he's still wearing clothes, so it can't be that. He wonders if there's something on his face. Then he looks around and doesn't see Maggie and thinks _oh_. She hasn't returned.

But then she's emerging from her tent and crossing the camp, pulling him into an embrace while he's still surprised.

"Thank you," she murmurs and he's starting to get irritated with all her thanks because he hasn't even _done_ anything.

She pulls away and is beaming at him. "Glenn's been askin' for you. We said we'd have you drop by the moment you came 'round."

 _That_ gets Daryl's attention. "Glenn?" he repeats, hating how hopeful his voice sounds. He follows her back to the tent she came out of.

Carol catches his eyes as he passes and smiles like they're sharing a secret.

Inside the tent, Glenn has been laid out in the corner amidst several blankets. He opens his eyes as Maggie and Daryl enter the tent, and while Maggie kneels down next to him, Daryl just stays near the tent flap, hovering.

Maggie whispers something to Glenn that makes him blush and eyes widen in a warning. Chuckling, she turns and stands. "I'll leave you two. Tent's not big enough for the three of us." she says, and then it's just Daryl and Glenn.

Daryl clears his throat awkwardly.

"Carol's making me stay in here until tomorrow," Glenn says. "Says I need rest." he makes a face.

There's silence.

"So," Glenn says, trying to sit up some more. He winces at the effort.

"So." Daryl sits back. Then he says, "Y'ain't dead."

"Disappointed?" Glenn says, but there's a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hell no," Daryl says seriously.

That causes Glenn to grin, and Daryl draws closer –like a moth to a goddamn flame –and sits down beside Glenn's bedroll.

They sit (or in Glen's case, lie) in comfortable silence. "I was scared." Glenn says after a while. "Of dying. That I was going to die. After everything we've seen, all the people I've watched die right in front of me… I was still scared shitless of the idea that I would die. I didn't, but if I did… I was glad you were there with me."

Daryl doesn't know what to say to that, but then –he's never been a very articulate guy. "You turnin' into a girl on me, Korea?" he says finally, in the only way he knows how to say _I know, I'm glad, too._

He thinks Glenn gets it, though, because he smiles again, this time tiredly.

Daryl stands. "You should rest." he says.

"Wait," Glenn reaches out, hand grabbing Daryl's arm. "Would you –would you stay …just for a little while?" he asks, voice hesitant.

 _Yeah. Hell yeah._ Daryl shrugs and sits back down. "Guess everyone can manage without me f'nother day." he mumbles.

Glenn looks relieved. "Thanks, man,"

"Get some fuckin' rest, Chinaman," Daryl says fondly, sitting down as Glenn lies back again and sits down.

"M'Korean." Glenn grumbles, but his eyelids are drooping close as he loses his battle with consciousness. His grip on Daryl's arm loosens and his hand slides to Daryl's wrist.

"I know," he says quietly. Daryl hesitates and then, figuring _what the hell_ , he maneuvers his hand so that he can lace their fingers together, and as he watches the rise and fall of Glenn's chest, he wonders what he'll say if he has to explain it. Probably nothing –the pro to being Daryl is that an answer isn't always expected.

Daryl thinks that he'd like to say something, though. _Got somethin' t'say, you say it, boy_. He's the world's biggest hypocrite.

"Daryl?" Apparently Glenn is still awake. "Don't," he says, when Daryl automatically begins to move away. Glenn's hand tightens around Daryl's. "Don't leave." he mumbles again, eyes blinking open briefly. The corner of his mouth twitches into a sleepy smile and a warm feeling blossoms in Daryl's chest and grows.

He returns the grin, hesitantly at first. "I won't." he promises, and it comes out so quiet and rough, he can barely hear it himself. He clears his throats and says, louder, "M'here fer as long as you want me," and that's the truth, and a goddamn fact.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! :)  
> I'm scared to death that my characterizations are completely off. It's been a while since I've written any accents for characters in fanfic. -_-
> 
> This fic is unbeta'd so if you see any mistakes, call me out on it.


End file.
